


dusk bird

by torrentialTriages



Category: Born With a Tooth - Joseph Boyden
Genre: Gen, getting high on gasoline, there is literally nothing to say about this. i dont know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 12:03:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6423229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torrentialTriages/pseuds/torrentialTriages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crow flies.</p><p>the most pretentious obscure bullshit you can think of</p>
            </blockquote>





	dusk bird

**Author's Note:**

> "matt literally stop writing fic about fandoms you seem to be the only person in" you will pry my love(/hate) of the orenda from my dead goddamn hands. we read three day road in english and then i read the orenda and born with a tooth on my own and Dear God. just. sweet baby jesus i hate and love these books so deeply please join me
> 
> disclaimer ive never gotten high on anything much less gasoline im just very tired and stressed and i like to ramble. dont do drugs stay in school all that uh. yeah. i dont know. i forget which town crow was in or even if it was made up or not its been hectic since i read the collection

Crow flies

he flies with his windbreaker streaming like tailfeathers behind him he is fifteen and so, so high above the sky as he hops from rock to rock, limbs swirling loosely to catch himself every so often and crow is a real life bird like the ones that sweep across the cloudy canadian dusk sky and _crow can fly too_

gasoline-smeared plastic bag dripping in one fist and he can almost see the wafting temptation of the noxious fumes that soothe him and give him these powers

a wild laugh, winded from the exertion and all the inhaling, and he scrabbles to the top of an even _larger_ rock, head tilted back to the clouds and their grainy scuffling across the darkening sky, and he feels exhilarated enough to laugh joyfully

he's on top of the world!

his chest aches from the inside, and he gasps for air in shudders and in his haze of freedom he thinks of mom and linda and uncle joe and that new priest on the reserve

(he thinks he mightve spat at the new guy once his back was turned but fuck if he _knows_ , its hard to know anything for sure now)

and suddenly his head spins, vertigo catching him, and it almost muffles out all the memories of _"francis what are you doing" "not again" "why are you_ like this _why do you keep-"_ no! he's not here for this, you keep outta this, brain-cops, brain-family, fucking asswipes all of them

he presses his fist with the bag to his nostrils and takes another breath, yeah, just like that, like meeting an old friend again who can wrap you up in their arms and take you anywhere you want, past the limits of reality, past the limits of your own body and mind and they can show you incredible new things that'll blow what you have _left_ of a fuckin' mind by the time you grab their hand

crow laughs softly, hoarsely, sitting alone on a rock in front of the science museum

_he can fly._

a lone crow hops on the roof gutters of the low building, croaking creakily, _kraa, kraa_ , and suddenly crow wants to be that bird

 _"kree,"_ he screeches from the throat, leaning forward with the intensity, despite the inherent dangers of being caught that he remembers back in his spongy rational mind, _take me with you, away from this fuckin' town, i can fly too, like you_

the crow rockets away in a burst of feathers and crow himself falls off his rock perch, sprawling unceremoniously on the pavement. he rolls over onto his back, rubbing at the grazed skin on his cheek, the pain muted but it wasn't much like the background pain of keeping this mortal _meat sack_ running

he watches the crow leave him, and takes another inhale of gasoline. he screeches after the retreating bird, envisioning his soul peeling away from his body in one long curly strip that becomes a real, proper bird, but this bird can't fly, oh no, not like crow or the others can, because this bird is too silly and dopey to get off the fuckin' ground

so he lets his voice fly, fucking cops be damned

a lone, solitary crow cawing, crying up a storm to the ones who fly without him

 

 

(something he never mentions to anyone, not even himself as soon as he realizes it: the day he set that house on fire he hoped that maybe, given that he was so hyped up on fucking gasoline all the fucking time then maybe he'd spontaneously combust and immolate to death too and then he wouldn't have to face the fact that linda was gone now and he wouldn't have to face the niggling little part of him that said it was his fault.)

**Author's Note:**

> i dont love myself and you know this because i post like everything at midnight after having written at midnight


End file.
